The Final Five Years
by butterbeerbear
Summary: Follow James, Lily, and their friends through the final five years of the Potters' life. Beginning in the summer before sixth year and ending on that tragic Halloween night of 1981.


There was much to like about James Potter, his friend Remus would insist, you just had to learn to see past all that you don't like. This wasn't a very enticing message in Lily Evans's opinion. What was on the surface counts. You could find something nice in _anyone_ if you learn to look past their flaws. Whether that be James Potter or a murderer.  
Remus didn't like this very much. But, Lily would argue, a murderer might be hard-working. Or maybe he always keeps to his word. Doesn't make him a nice person. James Potter may not be a murderer but that certainly didn't make _him_ a nice person either.  
"So another year comes to a close with no change?" Remus asked as the prefects patrolled the corridors one Thursday night.  
"Well I wouldn't say that," said Lily quietly. Two days had passed and she still hadn't forgiven him. And maybe she never would. She couldn't ignore his beliefs anymore. He had chosen his path and she had chosen hers.  
"Severus… I know we're hard on him," said Remus sympathetically, "but even you have to admit Lily, James is better than _that_."  
"James Potter being better than Severus Snape doesn't make him my ideal match," she said loftily, wondering what she was getting herself into by her tiny admission to Potter's better person.  
"One day you'll call him James," said Remus kindly as they finished their shift and headed for the Gryffindor portrait hole, "I just know it. Let things cool off this summer and then you'll see."  
"You said that at the end of last year Remus, and things just got worse. Levitating him upside down like that? I mean, even I have to finally admit the boy is slime, but are his actions really any better than a Death Eater's?"  
"Come now, you don't mean that," said Remus softly, "James Potter, a Death Eater?"  
"I'm not saying he is a Death Eater, Remus, I'm saying he's no better than one," she said stuffily. Remus didn't seem to want to talk to her after that. So she kept quiet until they reached the portrait hole and gave the password. They climbed up to their individual dormitories and went to bed.  
Both had been right: A summer would change James Potter. It just wasn't going to be this one.  
 **  
CHAPTER ONE**

"Yes, mum, I know, _ouch_ , yes, I know, ten O. . Very proud. Agh. Okay. Thank you," James Potter sputtered as his mother held his head still and kissed every part of his face he would let her reach.  
"I got ten too, you know," said his father genially over top of his newspaper, "you're mother got eleven though. No hard feelings there. You and I could have gotten eleven too if we'd taken more subjects."  
"I know Dad," said James lazily, finally extricating himself from his mother, "has there been any word from Sirius yet? I hope they're not treating him too hard. He took Muggle Studies just to spite them and I bet he got an 'O' in it too."  
"Tell him to stay with us for the summer," said his mother fussily, meddling with his hair, "I hate the idea of him cooped up in that place."  
"Yeah, yeah, I sent him a letter already. He hasn't _responded_ though. That's why I'm worrying." James looked himself in the kitchen mantelpiece mirror and had barely digested the temporarily flattened nightmare before he automatically messed it up again.  
"You needn't have bothered, James, it never stays down for long," said his father, knowingly pointing at his own head which, amidst the untidy mess, sported the tiniest of bald spots.  
"I'm going to my room," said James, "the owl should come there directly, but let me know is he swoops into the kitchen for a treat, alright?"  
His parents made noises of understanding and he made his way upstairs. There had been a lot bothering him recently and Remus was the only one who seemed to be able to write back frequently enough. Sirius was no doubt being stopped by those sordid parents of his. Peter…. Had he even written to Peter? Hmm. Maybe Not. Oh, well. And Evans.  
He stopped halfway up the stairs and rumpled his hair again. If one had not known James Potter, they would have assumed the gesture to be one of confusion or disbelief.  
"Ah, Evans," he muttered to himself, gazing dreamily out the window on the staircase landing. He bounded up the rest of the steps and into his bedroom and, bored, picked up the Hogwarts letter that had arrived earlier that day.

The letter from Hogwarts that told him to, on one sheaf of parchment, catch the Hogwarts Express from platform 9 ¾ on September 1st and, on a second sheaf of parchment, that he needed _Standard Book of Spells Grade 6_ , _Advanced Transfiguration_ , _Advanced Charms_ , _Advanced Potion Making_ , and _The Most Excellent Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts_.  
But the true reward was the third sheaf of parchment. In addition to reminding him to fulfill his prefect duties, he found that he had also been made Quidditch Captain.  
"About time," he muttered, examining it closely, chest swollen with pride. His parents would be pleased, of course. And so would his friends. His friends. Where _was_ Sirius's owl? His concern for his friend even drove the possibility of an enchanted Evans from his mind.

Where was Sirius?

"Muggle Studies?" She shrieked, eyeballs widening comically, "You dared - ?"  
"Yes mother, I dared," said a very handsome boy in a very bored voice, "can I have that back now, thank you?"

There were many a brave man who would have winced at Mrs. Black's ugly gaze. Unless they were drunk, of course. Very drunk. Then they would have laughed.

"Go to your room," she said in deadly whisper, spittle flying from her mouth. Sirius got up gracefully, snatched the letter from his mother's hand, causing his mother to hiccup with outrage. He heard the house elf, Kreacher, muttering something terrible under his breath as he left the room, stuffing the Hogwarts letter into his pocket along with the other parchments it had come with, booklists and what all.  
"Only one more summer after this," he muttered as he made his way up the stairs. On the top landing, he saw his brother, Regulus, peering out of his room. Sirius neither loved nor hated Regulus who had always stayed out of his way. But he met the stare unflinchingly and waited the few seconds it took for the door to close.  
In his room, he moodily took in the caged owl. One more summer and he'd be able to do magic and then punishments for crimes such as hanging a roaring poster of the Gryffindor lying on his bedroom wall would no longer matter. It wouldn't matter if he said the Dark Lord's name at dinner. He would be able to let Athena out of her cage and respond to his friends whenever he liked. He could even magically lock her back in before his mother was any the wiser in case she threw Athena out or cooked her for supper.  
"Next year, I could leave if I wanted to," said Sirius to himself, albeit very softly. He looked over the opened letters from his friends sitting on his desk. Prongs with his offer for accommodation for the rest of the summer; Moony with his wise words on patience with his impossible situation along with some thoughts on the news and their holiday homework; and finally Wormtail gibbering about the homework too but full of questions instead of answers.  
He knew they must be worried. He wondered if his mother even had the imagination to see him using the muggle post office. He decided not. This gave him an advantage.

One hour later, Padfoot was whistling as he made his way home, a portion of the little muggle money he collected for kicks well spent. He still had enough to buy a bus ticket perhaps. He could leave and stay with James or his uncle.

But something is Sirius's psyche still hadn't adjusted to the idea of running away yet. There was still a part of him that felt it was wrong. And so he'd wait.

The summer was almost over anyway.


End file.
